Forged
by Amourwolf
Summary: She was fire. He was steel. Cato never thought she'd change him, but she did: like a fire forges steel. AU of the events in the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Eventual Catoniss.
1. Tribute Parade

The Tribute Parade was the first time he laid eyes on her. Or really, the first time he had taken notice of her. Cheers and oohs and ahhs from the crowd made both District 2 tributes turn their heads. There she was. Flames trailed out behind her like a cape, illuminating her face. He had to admit, she was beautiful. The fire accentuated that. But this beauty was dangerous. She was fire and fire burned everything it touched.  
What was she trying to do? Upstage them? Upstage a Career? How dare she? Didn't she know who they were? Didn't she know that Careers almost always win the games? What kind of game was she playing? What kind of tactic was that?  
_One surefire way to get yourself killed first in the arena,_ Cato thought angrily. 12's female tribute opened up a Pandora's box of questions, and anger was so much easier to deal with than confusion.

As if sensing his menacing glare, the girl from 12 turned. Cato continued stare.  
"Cato!" Clove hissed and nudged him in the arm with her elbow. "What are you looking at?"  
He glanced down at his fellow tribute. "Nothing. Let's get out of these stupid costumes."  
Clove followed him to the elevator where their mentors and stylists were waiting. Both of them were eager to shed the gold gladiator armor.

When the prep teams were done with them, Cato and Clove headed down the hall to their rooms. "Tomorrow the fun begins." Clove said with a grin. She couldn't wait to get her hands on all the shiny new weapons in the training room. "Time to scope out the competition." Cato said.  
"There won't be much. 1 looks like a good pair and there's the guy from 11 who's bigger than you are, but the rest don't look that dangerous." Clove snorted, very unlady like. Cato could just see their handler scowling in disapproval at that, had she been there. But this wasn't in front of the cameras, so Clove could act normally.  
He grinned. "District 2 will have something to be proud of in a few weeks."  
"Damn straight. I'm not letting that prissy thing from 1 win this. I'll knife her in the back before she knows what hit her." Clove said.  
Cato laughed. Clove could look and talk pretty in front of the cameras, but when the flashing lights turned off and the pretty dresses were replaced with cargo pants and a simple burgundy shirt, her true personality came to light. She was sharp and deadly, just like her weapon of choice.  
"I'm sure they'll have swords there, Cato."  
"Yeah. Can't wait to see the look on their faces when I lob off a couple of dummy heads." He was excited as well. "Get some sleep."  
"Night Cato."  
He shut the door. Tomorrow would be an important step in forming their alliance with the tributes from 1 and intimidating the others. The girl from 12 entered his thoughts. There was something off about her. He couldn't place it. She was so different from all the other District 12 tributes they had studied. The last District, deprecatingly nicknamed the 'Last Stop of Panem', almost always had tributes that were starving and scared out of their minds.  
This girl from one of the poorest districts in Panem had stolen the spotlight from the Career tributes. That was no easy feat. Sure, her stylist could have done any number of things to make her presentable, but the clothes wasn't what captured and roused the crowd.  
It was the look in her eyes. That was the look of a survivor. Of someone who has had the odds stacked against them since they were born. Cato couldn't help but feel a bit threatened by that fact. Survivors sometimes ended up as victors. Their mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, was a survivor. He survived the Second Quarter Quell, where there were double the number of tributes. He was a survivor who took out the last remaining Career from District 1 and became a victor.  
What was stopping this girl from turning out the same way?

As Cato settled down for sleep, he vowed that she wouldn't snatch away the victory from him. 'Watch out, Fire Girl. You won't have your stylist in the Arena when I cut your heart out with my sword.'


	2. Training

Cato was itching to get his hands on the gleaming weapons that lined the walls of the training center. Beside him, Clove grinned in anticipation. Now if the instructor would just stop babbling on about 'survival skills'. The other tributes won't need them. Only one of them was going to survive this, and it was going to be him. Cato thought that maybe she did this on purpose, just to build the anticipation. He slowly glanced around the room, gauging each tribute in an attempt to ease the boredom. The Career perked up slightly as he and the girl from 12 exchanged a look. Cato gave a half attempt at a grin. The fire girl blinked furiously and looked back to the trainer. Cato told himself it was out of fear and that he intimidated her, but there was a nagging whisper in the back of his mind that she simply had better things to do than focus on him.

After what seemed like an eternity, the instructor released them. Cato headed straight for the wall and wrapped his hand around the sword's hilt. It was balanced and had a good grip. Cato grinned; he couldn't wait to test it out.  
He trained alone for a while, striking at the air and getting used to the weight of the blade. It was heavier than the ones at the academy, but not heavy enough to slow him down. No, his strokes were quick, clean and efficient. Cato could cut down an enemy twice his size in a matter of seconds.

He could feel the stares of the other tributes; some fearful, others wary, few impressed. Cato carried on in his routine, the sword making nice sharp whooshes as it cut through the air. The atmosphere in the training room changed and he wondered if this was a taste of how the games would feel. If so, he liked it.  
A whistle blew and Cato delivered a finishing blow to his invisible enemy. He spotted several test dummies out of the corner of his eye. The Career weighed the sword hilt in his hand, studied the mirror like surface of the blade. Now was a good time to test it out for real…

The sword was as sharp as he expected it to be, slicing cleanly through each dummy. Cato had lobbed off arms, slashed open stomachs and decapitated the last dummy before stabbing it in the solar plexus for good measure. He stopped as he felt eyes on his back. The Career looked around until he found the source of the stare: the fire girl was crouched in a patch of tall grass, gray eyes peering out between the stalks, expression unreadable.  
What was going on through that head of hers? She had no chance against him. None. 'Look away.' He thought furiously as their eyes met again. 'Look away.'  
She looked away. Not for the reason he intended. She didn't break the eye contact because she was scared, no; she looked away because she had better things to do with her time.  
Cato felt a torrent of anger blaze through him. He yanked the sword out and slashed a bit at the nearest dummy, shredding its shiny blue surface. This girl was starting to become a problem.

He had gone through six more test dummies when Clove called him over. She was standing around with the male Career from District 1.  
"They say they want to be allies." Clove said. "Marvel here isn't bad with a spear and Glimmer is a jack of all trades." She indicated the target range, where Glimmer was firing arrows with ease.

Cato gave each of them a once over. He glanced at Clove with a quizzical expression, as if to say 'What kind of names are Marvel and Glimmer?'. Clove shrugged a shoulder, a silent 'What do names count for if they're dead?'  
"Okay. Allies." Cato said. "We fight each other at the end for the title?"  
Marvel grinned. "Wouldn't have it any other way." Glimmer joined them; behind her, quiver's worth of arrows were stuck in her target. Cato had to admit, while she wasn't an expert shot, she was thorough. No one would survive after being shot that many times. Sometimes being a good Career didn't mean you had to be the best shot; sometimes it meant that you would do anything to get the job done.

The sound of someone in pain caught the attention of the Careers. 'Lover boy?' Cato thought; perhaps he was wrong in his initial assessment of the tribute's strength.  
Then _she_ entered the picture, silent and stealthy. Her fellow tribute didn't even know she was there until she spoke. Cato watched her the same way a feral dog watched its prey. He was still angry about their encounter earlier. Maybe this time she would look away out of fear.  
Then, as quickly as she came, fire girl left; moving out of the picture so the focus was now completely on her fellow tribute.

The tribute got to his feet and lifted one of the heavy ball weights. Cato scoffed while Marvel and Glimmer laughed. What was he thinking?  
The ball soared across the room and crashed into a rack of weapons.  
The Careers stared. Maybe Cato hadn't misjudged the boy from 12 at all. It took a significant amount of strength to lift the ball and even more to make it hit any sort of target.  
"Not bad." He commented over his shoulder at Marvel. The other Careers nodded their agreements.  
Maybe something from District 12 would prove to be useful in the arena after all.


End file.
